


I care (about you)

by XCuteAsHale



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, But first Tony needs to be cared for okay, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Get Together, Last chapter will be full on Stony, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Not Beta Read, People care about Tony Stark, Tony Stark Gets a Hug, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:41:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27727615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XCuteAsHale/pseuds/XCuteAsHale
Summary: 5 times someone cared about Tony Stark and 1 time he cared about someone else
Relationships: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 5
Kudos: 42





	1. 1. Natasha

**1\. Natasha**

Caring for someone else’s well being wasn’t something Natasha was used to. Growing up in the red room, caring had been looked on as a weakness, and as she grew up and grew into one of the world’s most wanted assassins, she never had the opportunity to care for anyone, or to be cared for herself. The first person who had dared had been Clint - the foolish dork. Their meeting had been rather anticlimactic, actually. They had both been hired to take out the same mark, and when they inevitably bumped into each other, Clint had looked at her once before declaring her one of his own. The first time he hugged her she stabbed him in the side. Then Phil was assigned to be their handler with SHIELD, and for some reason, he had slithered in underneath her walls, the same way Clint had. 

After the Avengers formed, the group of people who Natasha Romanov cared for only seemed to expand. It sometimes baffled her, the unreal matter of the situation, and she often found herself looking in on the situations from the outside. It seemed strange to care so _openly_ for someone, like how Phil always made her and Clint hot chocolate after a mission, or how Steve would sit with Bucky for hours and hours on end, trying to help him recover his memory, or even how Bruce and Thor would have their movie nights and cooking classes, everyone trying to do their best to show their love and care for their team members. Everyone except Tony Stark. It seemed that the genius somehow always managed to slip out whenever team bonding exercises were put in place, and whilst in the beginning Natasha wrote it up to him simply being too self centered to even want to partake, she had begun realizing that Tony Stark wasn’t the man she first assumed him to be.

Steve had started a new theme a couple of months after they all moved into the Stark tower, where every Monday morning was team work-out, and every Friday evening was team movie night, and Natasha had noticed that on those rare occasions that someone had actually managed to grab a hold of Tony before he barricaded himself in his workshop and bring him to the team exercises, the brunet had been quiet and still, as if he was trying to blend into the background. It was a total 180 from how he usually presented himself during battles, or whenever there was a camera involved, and it threw her for a loop. Slowly she started watching Stark, hatching a plan, because everyone else was busy caring for each other, and someone had to care for Tony.

The first time she tried reaching out, she found Stark in his workshop, and Tony looked at her with suspicion and a weary expression, asking what she needed upgraded. It had taken all of Natasha’s willpower not to show the sadness she felt inside, and the self blame that Tony thought that the only reason she would talk to him was to ask for things. It had taken forty minutes before Tony realized that she wasn’t there for an upgrade, or for things, or because someone else had sent her to fetch him. It had taken him longer to realize that she was there because she wanted, not because she felt forced or guilty, and the look of careful hope on his face had nearly broken Natasha’s heart when she invited him for a walk and a coffee.

It took Tony seven weeks before he stopped looking surprised when Natasha sought him out to take him out for their now weekly coffee date, and in between that time Natasha noticed how both Clint and Phil had started seeking the genius out as well, bringing him food when he was on one of his workshop binges. Natasha tried stealing him away every Sunday afternoon, the day of the week where he barely ever had any meetings scheduled with the company, and unless the team got called out, Tony tended to agree with a confused frown on his face. 

On their two month coffee-versary, an expression joyfully called out by Clint, Natasha brought a small gift. Stealing Tony away wasn’t a particularly difficult task, as the genius had been reluctantly forced down to the gym by Steve and Sam, the pair claiming that it was important for Tony to work on his hand to hand combat. Natasha bit her cheek to hold back the comment on how Tony’s hand to hand combat skills, whilst lacking the raw strength that the super soldier had, was far more strategic than the blonds.

“I’m stealing Tony,” she said curly, walking onto the training mat where the three men stood.

“We’re training,” Steve said, looking for all intents and purposes as if he was preparing to charge Tony then and there, “come back in an hours time or so.”

Moving with careful steps, she inserted herself between the men, turning towards Tony, “Tony, go get changed, you’re going to give babushka a heart attack if you come dressed like that,” she nodded towards the low cut muscle shirt Tony was wearing before turning towards the two other men, “Tony is leaving now. He will train with me later.”

Without waiting for a reply she snidely turned on her heel before walking back out of the gym, trusting that Tony would meet her at the entrance to the Stark tower within the next five minutes. Petrukhina Georgina Konstantinovna was a 72 year old russian woman, and the owner of the small cafe that they’d settled on. She was tiny, cranky and rude, always complaining about the pains in her back, and that her only son never called her. She had taken one look at Tony and declared him to be too thin, too tired and in great need of a grandmother’s care. The one Sunday where they had been called out on a mission, neither of them had thought to alert Petrukhina, and when they finally showed up the following Sunday, she had spent almost an hour yelling at them in russian, claiming that her poor heart couldn’t handle the stress. Natasha was absolutely sure that the old dragon would outlive them all out of pure spite. 

True to tradition, Tony arrived downstairs five minutes later on the dot, dressed in a casual pair of jeans and a shirt that probably cost more than the entire neighbourhood they were going to. He sent a curious look to the bag in her hands, but didn’t make a comment. Twenty minutes later, they were walking into a tiny coffee shop in downtown Brooklyn, in a small neighbourhood commonly called Little Russia, and Natasha felt a small pang of nostalgia overtake her. 

Petrukhina, “you call me babuska”, was in a deep conversation with a middle aged woman as they walked through the door, but with a courtesy gaze towards the door, she quickly unraveled herself, throwing her arms open with a shout. 

“котенок,” she shouted as she bustled her way towards Tony, dragging him into what looked like a hug just edging on too rough, “You haven’t eaten! Too skinny! Вы должны есть, ребенок!” Releasing Tony from her death grip, she turned towards Natasha, dragging her in as well, and Natasha felt herself melt against the comfort of it. “Вы оба слишком худы, вы дадите мне сердечный приступ, Иисус даст мне силы!”

Despite the harsh tone, her words were filled with affection, and Natasha could see the change in Tony almost immediately. As soon as Petrukhina let her go, the old woman ushered them towards an empty table in the back, already telling them about all the new gossip that was going around. Dalia, one of the servers, came to their table with a tray filled with tea, vatrushkas and dried fruits. It hadn’t taken a long time for Tony to fall in love with the pastry, and it had taken the staff a shorter amount of time to realize that there would never be a change in their order, so the food arrived within minutes of their arrival every like clockwork. 

“What is in the bag, зайчик?” Petrukhina asked, looking at the bag at Natasha’s feet as if it had insulted her, “You did not bring food here, no? I am providing you food.”

At the mention of the mysterious bag, she could see Tony perking up with interest as well, and she felt her lips curve up in a small smile.

“I thought I would teach Antoshka a new skill, Petrukhina,” she said, opening the bag, “something useful for the soul and hands.”

When she pulled out two balls of yarn and two sets of knitting needles, Petrukhina smiled, and Tony’s eyes boggled. 

“You wanna teach me how to knit?” Tony asked, and Natasha could see the excitement in his eyes, “Why?”

“Because you’re my friend.” Natasha said.


	2. 2. Phil and Clint

**2\. Phil and Clint**

Above all the things Phil Coulson prided himself of being, patient was the biggest. It was practically a job requirement, being the handler of the group of overgrown children, all with their own various traumas, called the Avengers. The fact that he was in a committed relationship with one of the said overgrown children made patience a virtue he needed in his personal life as well - sometimes when all he wanted to do was scream in frustrations over Clint’s newest obsession, the only thing that worked was to try to talk him out of it. And when talking him out of it failed, he reverted into his handler personality, simply trailing Clint silently to try to avoid as much collateral damage as possible.

When Clint’s new obsession turned out to be the well-being of none other than Tony Stark, though? Phil wasn’t sure if he had the patience required to not point out all the different ways this could, and would if all the previous attempts counted, fail. 

“Oh, come  _ on _ , Phil,” Clint whined, watching Stark stumble across the kitchen floor in the pursuit of coffee, “look at him and tell me he doesn’t need some love.”

Only years of training and experience as a spy helped him avoid rolling his eyes at his boyfriend’s antics, and remind him that Stark was in fact not a homeless puppy, Phil looked at the genius at the other side of the kitchen. Feeling Clint’s eyes on him, Phil watched how Stark finally arrived at the coffee machine, fumbling with reaching for a cup with mechanical movements. The bags underneath his eyes were dark enough for Phil to see them clearly across the kitchen, and his skin looked pale and hollowed, no doubt he was just resurfacing from another workshop binge. When Stark turned around, his eyes were glazed over, and moved over them without seeing them, before he stumbled back out of the room. As much as Phil wanted to remain optimistic, be doubted that Stark was heading towards his own floor and bed. Without removing his eyes from the dark haired man, Phil sighed.

“What did you have in mind?” He asked, not having to look at Clint to see the soft smile on his face.

\---

Whilst Clint’s plan had seemed simple, it turned out, that trying to passive-aggressively caring for Tony Stark was harder than they’d anticipated. The first time Clint had brought him food in the workshop after Stark had been cooped up in there for the past seven hours, Stark had looked at him like he’d never experienced any form of kindness before, questioning why Clint would eat in the workshop instead of assuming that the food was for him. Phil had rocked Clint as he shook that night, whispering soothing nothings into his skin, pretending he didn’t notice the wet spot forming on his shoulder. He kept trying, and between the two of them, they made sure that if Stark didn’t resurface from his cave within five hours, one or both of them would bring him a hot meal and a bottle of water. It took Stark one month until he stopped looking at them as if they would take the food back before he could eat it, claiming it all to be a joke, and it took Phil two to stop thinking of him as Stark, and start thinking of him as  _ Tony _ .

“You missed out on Bruce’s chilli,” Phil said, walking into the workshop, “but I- Tony!”

Stopping in his steps, Phil looked on horrified as Dummy douched it’s owner with a foam fire extinguisher, apparently misunderstanding the sparks flying from Tony wielding what looked like a new installment on Sam’s wings. When the can emptied with a low fizzling sound, and Tony was left coughing and sputtering, already muttering curses and empty promises of Dummy’s future as a toy at MIT, Phil felt his lungs contradict. Without meaning to, he placed the bowl of chili and the water bottle he’d brought with him on a nearby table, and took the ten strides necessary to reach the coughing genius. 

“Are you alright?” Phil asked, firmly stroking the foam away from Tony’s face and arms, ignoring the puzzled look he received.

“Wh-yeah, sure,” Tony said, taking a deep and wheezing breath, “Dummy does that about once a week.”

“Of course you’re not!” Phil exclaimed, not even hearing a word Tony said, “God’s only know what you could have inhaled, and I might not be a genius, but even _ I _ know that that foam isn’t the best thing to have skin contact with. Come on,” grabbing a firm hold on Tony’s right upper arm, Phil turned them both towards the exit, fully intent on knocking the other man out and carrying him if he tried resisting, “you’re going to take a shower, eat a meal and go straight to bed, or so help me.”

Tony’s weak attempts to break free and his hesitant words about new updates to the teams gear fell on deaf ears, as Phil dragged him into the elevator, grateful when Jarvis shut the doors and sent them up to his and Clint’s floor without having to be asked. By the time the doors opened again Tony’s weak objections had slowed down, and he was leaning slightly onto Phil, breaths coming as short wheezes. When they met Clint in the living room, Tony’s objections died entirely, and even Phil felt a chill go up his spine at the look in Clint’s eyes.

“I don’t even wanna know,” Clint said, shooting them both a dangerous look, “but I’m going down to get Tony something to eat, and when I come back up I’m expecting to find you both ready for bed.”

Tony’s muttering about how Clint wasn’t his mother went unanswered as Phil steered him towards the bedroom, and then through to the attached bathroom, and when Phil asked if he could manage to take a shower by himself the genius’ face turned into an amusing shade of red. Trusting him to be able to shower himself, and after getting him a pair of Clint’s sweatpants and cleaning his hands, Phil leant on the wall outside the bathroom. When Tony stumbled out less than two minutes later, clad only in Clint’s sweats, Phil allowed himself a slight breath of relief.

“Alright then, off to bed we go,” he said, steering the other man towards the king bed sitting firmly in the middle of the room, “before Clint comes back and decides to test his new arrows on us.”

Tony was uncharastically silent as he climbed into the bed, and while every part of Phil wanted to prod and poke and make sure that everything was okay, he knew from his experiences with Clint that sometimes the best thing was just to let them be silent, that they’d speak when they were damn good and ready for it. A quick check to see if he was comfortable in the middle of the huge bed only resulted in a pair of huge eyes set on him and a slight nod, and as Phil slid into the bed next to him, he was careful to see if there were any signs of Tony being uncomfortable or scared. Strangely enough he just seemed to relax as the bed dipped with Phil’s weight.

Thirty seconds later, Clint strode into the room with the confidence of a catholic school’s matron, carrying a steaming bowl of chilli and a bottle of water. Without saying a word he simply climbed into bed on the other side of Tony, and handed the brunet the bowl and bottle. They sat there in silence as Tony ate, and once he finished the chilli, Clint took the bowl from him and placed it on the bedside table, nudging him to drink his water, which landed with the bowl as soon as it emptied.

As if on cue, Phil and Clint nudged Tony downwards, until he was snuggled between them on his back, and with them both lying down facing him. Clint petted his hair softly and Phil stroked his right arm from his wrist to his elbow, and Tony melted between them. As Jarvis dimmed the lights, Tony spoke for the first time since he emerged from the bathroom.

“Why are you doing this?” He asked softly.

“What?” Clint murmured, moving closer to the heath Tony provided.

“Taking care of me?”

_ Because someone has to. _

“Because we want to.” Phil answered, snuggling closer as well, dropping his arm over Tony’s stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scream at me at [Tumblr](https://cute-as-hale.tumblr.com/) or in [Hell (discord)](https://discord.gg/eD3dq49)


	3. 3. Pepper Potts

**3\. Pepper Potts**

The first time she met Tony was at a nightclub with too loud music and too watered down alcohol. It hadn’t been accidental, though she would never admit that to Tony, of course, that she bumped into him that night - quite literally. At the time she hadn’t realized who he was, not getting too good a look at his face, but she had seen the guy he was with clear as day, and she had seen the pill dropping into Tony’s glass, had seen Tony’s back turn, and when he turned back to pick up his drink. She hadn’t noticed who he was until after she moved, until after she bumped into him with enough force to send the glass flying, and he had turned around to steady her. Of course she knew who he was, everyone had seen him in the news, the famous Tony Stark, son of Howard Stark, and the owner of Stark Industries. What she hadn’t known was that Tony had seen the pill, had figured it out in that way to smart brain of his. He had offered her a job the next day.

It had taken her approximately three days to figure out that Tony did nothing half way, and that with no one looking out for him, he was working himself to the ground. 

Pepper was woman enough to admit that in the beginning she hadn’t truly cared on a personal level whether or not Tony overworked himself, that she’d cared mostly in the way she really didn’t want to go back into the job hunting market or lose the amazing benefits S.I. offered. It hadn’t taken more than two months though before Tony wiggled his way into her heart - despite the way she tried to keep her distance. He’d won her over with soft eyes and praise thrown at her feet with such sincerity that she’d felt herself blush. He’d kept her affections with his undeniable loyalty, his big heart and his pure innocence when it came to the harsher truths in the world. It had been painful watching him cower before Obadiah Stane, and down right infuriating to watch him fold in on himself before Stone. She had tried so many times to run interference, just as she had that first night, tried to protect him from the dangers surrounding him - from Godfathers with manipulating tongues, ex boyfriends with hard fists, and investors with dollar signs in their eyes. 

By the time Tony disappeared in Afghanistan he had wormed his way so deeply into her heart that Pepper had already started making her life plans with him involved - o _f course_ Tony would be her best man, _of course_ Tony would be the amazing uncle who knew all the cool science tricks for her kids, _of course_ Tony would still be in her life when they grew old and grey. 

When news had arrived that the genius had disappeared in the Afghanian dessert, Pepper had refused to allow the tiny whisper in the back of her mind take hold, the one that whispered that Tony wouldn’t be there when they grew old, that Tony wouldn’t be there at all anymore. Instead she visited the bots daily, promising them again and again that everything would be okay, that Tony would be home soon. She promised them that their uncle Rhodney was out there looking. She promised them every day that their creator, their dad, would come home, and every day she watched the statistics Jarvis brought up on her phone, and prayed that her promises would come true.

And then Tony came home.

Tony, her infuriating, sometimes irresponsible, soiled boss was back. 

Tony was dying. Tony was _dying_.

And then he saved himself. He saved himself and became a superhero in the process. Iron Man was born - and Pepper couldn’t stop the relief from washing through her body. The risk of being Iron Man was overrun by the reward of having Tony there, alive, to keep her on her toes.

She noticed, of course, how the Avengers brought a new spark to Tony’s eyes. How his drinking slowed it’s pace, and his work binges grew fewer. Of course Pepper noticed, because she had been there for years, over a decade by then, and she always noticed. She noticed how Tony’s schedule suddenly sprouted a permanent appointment every Sunday afternoon - how he disappeared with Natasha for hours, only to come home with bright eyes and a small smile. She noticed Clint’s - aptly named - hawk eyes tracking Tony’s eating habits, always pushing just a little more food on his plate. She noticed Phil pulling Tony onto the couch during the movie nights, how he simply raised his eyebrow to the genius when the protests started, tutting quietly until he sat. 

Pepper noticed everything. It was her job, to be Tony’s assistant, to be his eyes, to watch his back. 

And whenever she noticed that Tony’s shoulders rose to his ears, that his eyes were dazed and his mouth pulled up in a tight frown - when the board members were at their most vicious and demanding, and the problems heaped themselves into a huge pile - then Pepper knew what she had to do.

“Tony, your appointments for the next week are cleared-” she’d say, “there is nothing that can’t wait right now, and the board could do with a little soak in their own misery.”

Pepper would always watch Tony’s back - and she always knew what Tony needed. And who.

“Rhodney called, he’ll be here by tonight and wanted me to remind you that you owe him at least two cheeseburgers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can anyone guess who the next chapter will include?
> 
> Scream at me at [Tumblr](https://cute-as-hale.tumblr.com/) or in [Hell (discord)](https://discord.gg/eD3dq49)

**Author's Note:**

> Russian translations (by google):
> 
> котенок - Kitten  
> Вы должны есть, ребенок - You have to eat, child  
> Вы оба слишком худы, вы дадите мне сердечный приступ, Иисус даст мне силы - You're both too thin, you'll give me a heart attack, god help me
> 
> \---
> 
> Scream at me at [Tumblr](https://cute-as-hale.tumblr.com/) or in [Hell (discord)](https://discord.gg/eD3dq49)


End file.
